


dearest gillian,

by amyelouise



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, Gillovny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6647749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyelouise/pseuds/amyelouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tulips had always been her favourite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dearest gillian,

**Author's Note:**

> Although they're real people this is purely fiction.
> 
> Enjoy!

She was shocked to say the least when she opened her dressing room to see Vanessa shyly hiding behind a magnificent bouquet of magenta tulips and hyacinths. The flowers were wordlessly passed over to Gillian, her golden hair in rollers and her fingernails still sticky with nail polish.

"Vanessa, who are these from?" Her accent was crisply British, and she forgot for a moment that she was in New York, ready to deliver Blanche DuBois to an entirely new audience. Vanessa's smirk was all she saw as she quickly took off around the corner, leaving Gillian with the gift from the nameless sender.

She walked on bare heels over to the dressing table so she wouldn't disturb the red paint adorning her toes and gently set the blossoms down. She admired them from afar, bringing her head down to smell the petals and closing her eyes in ecstasy. Tulips had always been her favourite.

She saw a white card poking its way through the stems of the tulips and with careful fingers, she grabbed the corner and pulled it out for inspection. One side was decorated with a slightly wobbly sketch of a little tulip, coloured in with pink highlighter. She smiled a little, already recognising the style of the drawing.

Sure enough when she flipped the card over, a small message was scrawled in that familiar handwriting. She imagined him hunched over his desk in his apartment writing it with the same black biro he uses for writing the songs about her. Just the thought of his hands made her fantasise about having them around her waist, and she could almost feel his comfortable weight pressed up against her back. She'd only seen him a few hours ago, his hair ruffled from her hands and his eyes sleepy as he kissed her nose, watching her naked body in the morning light. Her body shuddered at the thought and she drew her focus back to the letter that she was cradling in her hands.

 _"Dearest Gillian,_  
_I saw these on a street corner and thought of you._  
_'If you do not love me, I shall not be loved. If I do not love you, I shall not love.'_  
_Good luck Blanche, D x"_

Her eyes were wet and her fingers trembling when she had finished reading, her fingertip tracing along his cursive initial. Quickly she reached for her phone and tapped on his name.

_'Do we mean love, when we say love?'_

Almost immediately she could see he had read her text message, his little grey speech bubble appearing under her blue one.

_'I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything anymore, teach me others. Or let me be silent.'_

She smiled to herself and called out for Vanessa to fetch two vases.

**Author's Note:**

> Samuel Beckett's quotes are used without permission, but I'm sure Duchovny would approve. If any of you are not familiar as to why I have used Beckett's writing in particular, David wrote his dissertation at Yale on him, and also had one of his famous quotes as his Twitter bio for a short while.  
> Although I'm not sure what the card says in Gillian's picture of her dressing table at St Ann's Warehouse, I am fairly sure it begins with "Dearest Gillian".


End file.
